


i said no one has to know what we do

by houseofthedragon



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheating, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Infidelity, Kinda dom Jon/sub Dany, One Shot, Porn with minimal Plot, Smut, age gap, fic request, for my dumbass friends who are going to hell bc yall made me do this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-28 18:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20783495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houseofthedragon/pseuds/houseofthedragon
Summary: “So you don’t want me then?” she asks, drowning in the fire in his eyes, drunk on the sizzling tension between them. The kind that makes her want to do all the dangerous, filthy things she’s imagined doing with this beautiful man.He refuses to answer, his eyes darting between her own, but his breathing has quickened, his chest rising and falling more rapidly as he stares down at her intently. Like a wolf preparing for a vicious attack.She chuckles at his failed attempts to hide his desire for her, she revels in his failure. “Right, you did say that I could almost be your daughter. I guess I should call you daddy then?”Or, in which Daenerys fucks her best friend's dad. Don't ask me.





	i said no one has to know what we do

Daenerys adores children.

She wants _lots _of them when she’s married. A house full of kids. But she’d be lying if she says that this is the reason she takes up the job offer. Her love for children is nothing compared to her need for money to pay her tuition fees. Juggling between her job and drama school is already hard but the worst part is that it’s barely enough to cover the expenses. She needs that extra cash.

“You have to stand on your feet,” her mother told her over the phone when Dany asked her for money (again), “This is the time to learn to be independent.”

That was Rhaella’s way of saying ‘you’re on your own, kiddo’ but Daenerys doesn’t blame her. The last time her parents sent her money, she washed it all down the drain in one wild night at a casino.

So, for her to be standing in front of her best friend’s house this Monday evening is not out of her love for kids. No matter how adorable children can be, she’d never willingly spend an entire night watching over them. Her being here is purely out of desperation.

Lyra had the wonderful idea to get Daenerys some extra help. “Ever since my parents had Daemon, they’ve been looking for a babysitter. This is literally the perfect opportunity!”

“Lyra,” Dany had said, sounding uncertain, “Are you sure? Isn’t that weird?”

“Come on, Daenerys. Don’t be stupid. My parents really need help and so do you. Plus we get to be together more often.”

She did not need more convincing, she only had to be sure Lyra was okay with it but her friend assured Dany repeatedly over the course of the week that followed that she was more than okay with that.

So here she is.

Daenerys puts on her brightest smile before knocking, straightening her blouse that she didn’t have time to change after her last afternoon class.

A frail woman opens the door. Daenerys recognises the red hair, the same coppery colour of her friend’s hair. Lyra truly took after her mother, she is also a thin girl with hollow cheeks and blue eyes. Although Daenerys has to admit she is much prettier than her mother, which could just be because the woman looks older than she probably is, with worry lines visible on her forehead.

“Hi! You must be Daenerys,” the woman says, showing her crooked teeth in a smile. “I’m Ygritte, Lyra’s mum.”

“Nice to meet you.” She shakes her hand. “I’m sorry, I was stuck in traffic and couldn’t be here sooner.”

“It’s alright,” Ygritte says, “Come in, please.”

Daenerys steps inside and looks around briefly before saying, “Your house is very beautiful, ma’am.” It’s not a lie but not the truth either, she doesn’t care much for the house, but she plans on being the world’s biggest sweetheart to obtain this job. Lyra told her that her mother loves being complimented so Dany plans to do just that.

“Thank you.” Ygritte seems to buy it easily enough. “Make yourself comfortable. My husband will be here soon, shall I get you a glass of water?”

Daenerys shrugs. “Um, yeah, sure. Thanks.”

While Ygritte heads to the kitchen, Daenerys takes off her coat and hangs it next to the door as she hesitantly makes her way into the living room.

Since the kitchen is just a room away, it’s impossible not to hear a new voice speaking. “She’s here already?”

“Yes, I told you she’d be here by six.”

“Ygritte,” the male voice says, sounding aggravated, “I told you I’d be busy this evening. Couldn’t you have rescheduled this to Monday?”

Even dropping her voice to a whisper doesn’t help Ygritte’s case, Daenerys realises. She can hear loud and clear what the woman seems to be snarling at her husband, “I don’t care. She needs to start as soon as possible. Missing one meeting is not the end of the world, you know.”

“You’re insufferable,” he growls, “I’m not even surprised.”

Daenerys shifts on the sofa uncomfortably. The last thing she wants to do is be caught up in a lovers’ quarrel. And now she fears their moods will already be ruined before they speak with her and she won’t even get the job.

Ygritte tells the man to go greet Daenerys and he agrees with an annoyed huff. Dany steels herself for the worst, ready for a pissed off old man to show up and probably be rude with her.

She couldn’t be more wrong.

Jon Snow is pissed off, yes, but he’s also the most _beautiful_ man she’s ever seen. Her breath hitches in her throat when she first sees him. A dark-haired man with deep grey eyes and a nicely trimmed beard covering his jaw and fading down his throat. His lips are full and pouty, hair held back with an elastic band with his white button-down shirt tightly fitted against his body. She’s seen hot men before, she’s seen handsome men and also ugly men. But he is undoubtedly _the _most gorgeous man she could’ve ever dreamed of seeing. Her eyes keep scanning over his face and body, hoping to find something wrong with this man, something to break through all of this perfection.

There’s none, of course, other than the woman standing next to him. The hottest man she’s ever seen…is a husband and a father. Not just any father but her best friend’s dad. She doesn’t know if it’s sad or hilarious that this might be one of the most disappointing moments in her entire life.

“Daenerys.” _Fuck me, of course, he has a sexy voice too. _“Lyra has spoken a lot about you.”

Dany shakes his hand with a smile and _yes, _he has nice, long fingers, his palm warm and rough against hers. She has to pull back as fast as she can so as to prevent her mind from conjuring filthy images of where these fingers could be useful. “I hope you’ve heard good things,” she jests.

Jon smiles. “Of course. But still, I hope you understand that we wish to speak to you personally as well before giving you the job.”

“Ah, obviously, I get that.” Daenerys makes herself nod comprehensively.

“I made pasta,” the wife announces, “Let’s go eat and talk, shall we?”

Daenerys’ nervousness skyrockets as they take a seat in the dining room. But for entirely different reasons now, like the fact that Jon is sitting just next to her and he smells so good her mouth almost waters, as if this man was put on Earth to torture her sexually because he ticks every box on her list of things she finds most attractive about men. Dark and brooding, nice hands, smells good....

_Gods, _she thinks, _if Lyra ever finds out I’m thinking all of _this_ about her father she’ll want my head on a spike. _

“Is Lyra joining us for dinner?” Daenerys asks. Maybe her friend being here will remind her of how fucking inappropriate it is to be lusting so badly after her father. Maybe that will knock some sense into her perverted mind because so far, nothing seems to work, not even that his wife is standing a few feet away from them, filling three plates with pasta.

“I’m afraid not. She still hasn’t come back from her volleyball practice,” Jon answers, resting his elbows on the table. She pries her eyes away from his biceps, prominent over the button-down he’s wearing. “Do you play, Daenerys?”

_With myself? Yeah, I probably will after tonight given how horny you just made me. _

“Nope,” her voice is a pitch too high, much to her horror. She clears her throat (and her mind) as she looks away from him, swearing that his grey eyes have an almost knowing look in them. “But I do have piano classes on Thursdays.”

“Oh, alright. That’s nice.”

When dinner is served, Daenerys finally begins to unwind, focusing on the food rather than the extremely distracting man next to her. It works for most parts. Then they begin talking. Ygritte is the one asking most of the questions while Jon is humming and agreeing along with his wife. They seem pleased by Daenerys’ morals (she doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, lives with her parents and all that jazz) and they tell her more about their two-year-old, Daemon. Ygritte lists down all the things Daenerys should remember when looking after him and they also throw in some basic instructions on how to feed him and change his diapers if needed.

“You seem like a very nice girl, Daenerys,” Ygritte says. “I feel like we can trust you. What do you say, Jon?”

“Yes.” His eyes lock on hers. “She’s almost like our own daughter. I think we don’t have to worry about whether Daemon will be in good hands.”

_Oh, fuck you. _

Daenerys forces a smile at that.

“Great! It’s settled then, you start tomorrow,” Ygritte announces.

+

Even if Lyra claimed that if she works for her parents, Daenerys will get to see her more, it doesn’t turn out to be the case at all since the latter is always at her boyfriend’s house in the evening, leaving Daenerys alone with Daemon.

That kid is a sweetheart. He can be loud, sometimes, and annoying like most kids but he’s funny and smart and honestly a bubble of sunshine and roses. He’s also adorable, with chubby cheeks that Dany can’t keep her hands from. He’s taken a liking to Dany in the past two weeks she’s worked here. His favourite activity is to climb on her back and pretend she is a horse, tugging on her hair as he orders her around. Daenerys allows him to do that until it gets too tiring and painful to have him on her back but she still does it every time, just because it makes him so happy.

She’s also successfully stopped thinking about fucking Jon Snow.

Well, at least, it’s better than before.

While his presence still messes with her nerves from time to time, especially when he beams at her playing with his son and he’s just _so _gorgeous with that smile that she wants to collapse on the ground, she has been working on taming her attraction for this man. By this she means that she chants Lyra’s name in her head repeatedly every time she sees Jon to remind herself that this is her best friend’s father and also, she tries not to look at his hands anymore because she absolutely does _not _want to imagine how they’d feel like wrapped around her throat as he pounds into her.

“Dany,” Daemon’s voice drags her back to reality, where he is sitting on her lap with his toys sprawled on the couch next to her.

He still can’t spell Daenerys so Dany is the easier alternative and it sounds cute from his lips so she doesn’t mind, even if that’s something her ex used to call her. “The truck?” she asks, lifting the small red truck.

“_Tuck_!” Daemon exclaims back.

Daenerys chortles and places it on his lap.

The door being thrown open startles her.

In comes Jon, an exasperated huff leaving his mouth, “Always the fuckin’ same with you.”

“Don’t swear in front of –” Ygritte begins to hiss, eyes widening as she finds Daenerys’, a nervous smile spreading at her lips. “Hey!”

“Hi. You’re home early,” Daenerys awkwardly states, refusing to look in Jon’s direction because she knows he looks like a god in that black suit.

“Yeah. Something came up,” Ygritte replies vaguely.

“Something,” Jon repeats mockingly.

The red-haired woman glares at her husband before looking back at Dany. “Um, I’ll take him from here. Hi baby, you must be tired.” She picks Daemon from her arms and smiles politely at her, “Thank you Daenerys and goodnight.”

As soon as they’re gone from the living room, Daenerys stands up, wiping her suddenly moist hands on her dress. Him being near always does things to her, things she would rather not name.

But tonight, she feels like she can’t leave without saying a word to the man who looks sad and angry and very drunk. “Are you alright?” she asks him gently.

“Yeah.” After a pause, he barks out a bitter laugh, “Actually, no. I’m just fuckin’ exhausted of her invading my privacy as she does. Was just having a night out with my colleagues and she has to – to come there and ruin it all like she always does. Embarrassin’ me is her favourite hobby, I think.”

Dany blinks in shock for she was not expecting this furious outburst, his word vomit accentuated by his deep accent which seems to get thicker when he’s drunk. And far sexier too. Daenerys watches as he huffs and curses under his breath while trying to remove his coat and failing miserably, being as hammered as he is.

“Let me help you,” she finds herself requesting because it’s too funny to watch him struggle with the sleeves.

She regrets her decision when she steps closer to him and drags the coat from his back and he turns around, facing her, closer to her than he’s ever been. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles and she looks up, a little breathless at the sight of the grey freckles in his dark eyes. “This is none of your concerns, I didn’t mean to bother you with that.”

“No, it’s fine. I asked after all.” She swallows the lump rising in her throat, making it hard for her to inhale properly. “And I’m…sorry that you’ve had such a rough night.”

The wise thing would be to look away now, away from the intensity of his gaze which is still set on her, as if he is looking at her for the first time ever. The wise thing would be to step away from his warm body, since their chests are brushing with every breath he takes. The wise thing would be not to follow his tongue with her eyes when he licks his lips. But she does none of these wise things.

And when he whispers, “You’re so pretty,” she almost whimpers at how badly she wants him.

“Jon.” Her voice is small and breathy and Jon groans softly, his forehead pressing against hers, nose brushing along her own as her mouth opens expectantly. His breath is hot on her lips and smells of alcohol and she feels like she is already drunk on it. Just as his lower lip touches hers ever so lightly, he pulls away. Standing on wobbly legs, staring at her wildly, his pupils blown.

He shakes his head to himself and walks away from her.

Daenerys remains there, her heart beating fast in her chest, the terrible truth surrounding her. He wants her, too. Which makes this whole thing so much more complicated.

***

“How’s the Snow household treating you?”

“Not too bad. Your brother’s the cutest, it doesn’t even feel like a job.”

Lyra snorts distastefully, elbowing Daenerys in the ribs. “Be careful, I’m your favourite.”

“That two-year-old is less annoying,” Dany jokes.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Daenerys rolls the pen she’s holding between her lips, contemplating whether she should speak about what she _truly _wishes to. Clearing her throat, she catches her friend’s attention who looks up from the scripts she’s reading for the play they have tomorrow. “Your, um, parents…are they ok? On good terms, I mean?” Daenerys twirls her hair to appear nonchalant, even if her ears are perked up in attention.

Lyra takes a moment to answer. With an almost defeated breath that she exhales, she says, “You noticed, didn’t you?”

“No, I just—”

“You don’t have to lie, Dany. They’re fucking obnoxious with their fights, I know. I think they’re on the verge of a divorce. They don’t want to say it to me directly but I’ve put two and two together.”

Now _that _shouldn’t make her as happy as it does. “Really?” She hopes she doesn’t sound hopeful like a freak.

“Yeah. Think they’re just trying to patch things up because of Daemon but I fear it’s only getting worse. If a child is the only thing holding a marriage together then there’s clearly a problem.”

“I’m sorry, that must put you in a hard position.”

“I don’t really give a fuck,” Lyra says, rolling her eyes, “I’ve been listening to them fight since I was sixteen, Dany. I’m twenty-two. I’ll print out the divorce papers myself if it means they stop annoying me.”

Daenerys laughs along but deep down, all she can think of is how she’s actually _considering _giving in to the temptation now. It’s wrong, of course, still wrong despite whatever is happening in their marriage. But how long is she willing to pretend that she cares about what’s wrong?

+

One night, weeks after her almost-kiss with Jon after which he refused to even so much as glance in her direction except when required, Daemon falls asleep in her arms, too tired to play. Daenerys takes the baby to his room, placing him in his crib and staying there, watching over him while she scrolls on her phone mindlessly until she hears Jon’s car pull up in the driveway.

Usually, Ygritte is the one to arrive home first. She’s a nurse and Jon works at a bank, as Lyra has informed her. She explained that her mother usually has morning and afternoon shifts, refusing to take night ones so she can look after her son.

Jon comes to her in Daemon’s room.

It’s the first time they’ve interacted _alone _since that night.

This prospect shouldn’t be as exciting as it is.

Jon leans against the doorframe. “Thanks, Daenerys. You can go for the night.”

“Are you sure?” Daenerys asks as she gets up. “Because your wife said I shouldn’t leave before she gets back.”

Jon guides her out of the room as he speaks, “Well, I’m his father too.” He sounds annoyed.

She nods. “Of course, I didn’t mean it like _that.”_

“No, I know. Sorry. Ygritte’s working late tonight so I came home early.”

“Ah, I see. Goodnight then.”

“Wait, Daenerys.”

She turns back to him, waiting for him to continue.

Jon sticks his hands in the pockets of his jeans, looking around like a caged animal trying to escape. “I’m…I just wish to apologise for the other night.”

Daenerys wasn’t expecting him to bring this up. She thought it was one of those things where both parties silently agreed to never speak about again. She supposes not. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. It wasn’t fair of me to speak such things about my wife. We’re…working things out and like every couple, we have our disagreements, but it’s fine,” he says, not meeting her eyes even once.

Daenerys’ brows fuse together in confusion. She thought he was apologising for having _almost _kissed her, not for speaking ill about Ygritte. “Sure,” Daenerys offers, “but you don’t have to lie. Lyra told me about you guys planning to separate.”

His eyes snap back to hers. “She said what?”

“That you guys were probably going to get a divorce.”

He laughs humourlessly. “That is _not_ true.”

She shrugs carelessly. “I’m not judging you. My parents are separated too, and they’re happier like this.”

He takes a step toward her, eyes flashing. “I’m not getting a divorce. Like I said, we just have our ups and downs.”

She doesn’t understand why he’s so determined to prove her wrong. Who cares? Daenerys lifts an eyebrow. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself, Mr Snow?” she asks, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Jon’s jaw clenches, eyes darkening to the point that they look as black as the sky at midnight. He looks down at her, eyes narrowed on hers. “I have nothing to prove to you,” he grits out.

His anger is addictive, it causes something to rush through her veins, a buzz of adrenaline and excitement, making her want to _push _him further, just to see when he snaps. Daenerys wets her lips before asking, “What was _that_ all about then? Did you forget about trying to kiss me?”

“I was drunk,” he answers, almost instinctually, almost as if he’s told this to himself multiple times now.

“So you don’t want me then?” she asks, drowning in the fire in his eyes, drunk on the sizzling tension between them. The kind that makes her want to do all the dangerous, filthy things she’s imagined doing with this beautiful man.

He refuses to answer, his eyes darting between her own, but his breathing has quickened, his chest rising and falling more rapidly as he stares down at her intently. Like a wolf preparing for a vicious attack.

She chuckles at his failed attempts to hide his desire for her, she revels in his failure. “Right, you did say that I could almost be your daughter. I guess I should call you daddy then?”

His mouth parts. “What did you just say to me?”

Daenerys closes the distance between them, letting her breath fan over his mouth as she leans on her tiptoes, arms slowly creeping up his chest, Jon’s eyes following the movement. He’s all muscles underneath and she can feel how tense he is, like a taut string waiting to break. Gods, she wants him to break. She presses her palms against his shoulders. “You heard me,” she whispers.

It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back, her brushing her lips against his as he once had, because this time, he’s as sober as she is yet he lets go of the last bit of restraint as his hand suddenly fists her hair, pulling her head backwards. Making her gasp. His other hand rests on her hip, pulling her flush against his, her soft curves melting right into his hard edges. “Is that what you want?” he murmurs.

She nods, her heart pounding.

“I’m not going to ruin my marriage for a quick fuck,” he tells her, even as he lowers his head to her exposed neck, pressing a kiss right over her raging pulse.

Daenerys wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He makes a sound against her skin, peppering the spot with kisses as he bites on the flesh once more. She’s never been this turned on in her life. The wrongness of what they’re doing, the immorality of it all.

“Your marriage is already ruined,” she whispers in his ear then takes his earlobe between her teeth for a teasing tug.

Jon growls, turning her face to his and mashing their lips together. The kiss is messy – a clash of tongues, teeth and lips. She moans into his mouth as his hands start exploring her body in a frenzy, as if he can’t touch enough fast enough. Sliding down her shoulders to her back, then dropping down below until he grabs two handfuls of her ass, massaging the cheeks vulgarly over the thin silk of her black dress. His hands drift lower further, under her thighs, making her shriek against his lips as she jumps into his arms, legs twining around his waist as he effortlessly carries her to the couch. _On which she plays with his son, on which she studies with his daughter, her best friend. _

Jon bites down on her bottom lip and smirks against her mouth as she hisses at the pain, even as something throbs between her legs at the harsh treatment. Under his cool demeanour is an animalistic side which she wants unleashed upon her, the need for him to lose control growing inside of her. He drops her body carelessly on the couch, her mouth detaching from his with a pop and a gasp as she falls on the soft cushion.

Daenerys glares at him but the anger fades as she sees how more beautiful he looks like this; hair dishevelled, mouth bruised, eyes pitch black. “Take off your clothes,” he orders.

Daenerys has never been _ordered _around during sex. Now that she thinks about it, everything before Jon has been pretty vanilla. Her first boyfriend came with two thrusts, the guys she dated at drama school were better, but nobody has ever made her this wet without having even touched her.

“I said take off your clothes,” he repeats, voice gruff, “isn’t that what you want, Dany? To be a good girl for me?”

She almost comes with that sentence alone. Nodding frantically under his dark gaze, Daenerys begins lowering the straps of her dress, letting it pool at her waist before he shakes his head, telling her to take it all off. She bites down on her lip as she obeys, loving the way his eyes trace her body hungrily, his gaze full of such intensity that it could be mistaken for a physical touch over her skin.

“All of it,” he growls at her.

Her fingers shake as she unclasps her bra, trembling with anticipation and arousal. His eyes drop to her breasts and she almost feels self-conscious, wondering what he’s thinking. He approaches her slowly until she has to tilt her head to look him in the eyes. Jon’s fingers brush against her cheekbone ever so gently, his thumb ghosting over her bottom lip. Inadvertently, she parts her lips for his and wraps her lips around the intrusive digit. Jon grunts as she sucks on his finger. “Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he tells her, his fingers now drifting down across her collarbone and to her breasts. When he tweaks her taut nipple between his wet thumb and forefinger, Daenerys gasps, leaning into her touch, needing him everywhere at once. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. From the moment I saw you, I’ve barely been able to keep my mind off you. No matter how wrong it is.”

“Jon, please,” she begs, the throb between her legs growing uncomfortable to bear now.

“I thought it was daddy,” he jokes, encircling the sensitive bud with his thumb while his other hand caresses her cheek.

“It can be whatever you want,” she breathes out, “as long as you fuck me.”

“Sounds tempting but I like the way you say my name.”

She stills his teasing hand, forcing his eyes to meet hers again. Her smile is wicked as she asks, “Like it better than when your wife says it?”

After that, everything escalades. He’s on the couch, where she was a few seconds ago, and she’s straddling his lap, their hands working to quickly unzip his pants and free his cock. Hard and weeping for her. He kisses her neck and breasts, taking one nipple intobhis mouth and giving it all of his attention with bites and licks and kisses, and when she writhes and moans, he switches to the twin to drive her even crazier.

She wraps her hands around his length, giving him a few pumps, their eyes finding one another’s and a moment of recognition passing between them. They know it’s beyond wrong but they also know that they’re not willing to stop. He kisses her languidly as she lifts herself from his lap to align herself with him, moaning at the contact the head of his cock makes with her clit.

Ridiculously enough, he’s still fully dressed save for the buttons she’s popped on the top of his shirt. But she’s far too lost in the pleasure to care. She rubs herself along his length, grinding back and forth teasingly and pausing every time the fleshy tip brushes over her sensitive bundle of nerves. Jon leans his head back into the sofa, grunting, eyebrows pinched together, a single bead of sweat travelling down his forehead. “You’re soaked,” he comments huskily, “Look at how you’re dripping all over me already.”

She does look down at them, only to moan loudly at the filthy sight and wet sounds. She sinks down on his length, a wail breaking past her lips as he fills her to the hilt.

“Shh, Daemon’s sleeping,” Jon hisses at her and slaps her ass – gently.

She gasps, growing impossibly more aroused.

His eyes darken at the realisation. “You like that?” he asks, hitting her again, this time _harder. _She nods quickly, bouncing on top of him, her cunt convulsing with each slap to her cheek. The pain intensifies the pleasure, her clit throbbing with each thrust. “You’re so filthy. A dirty little girl for me. Is that right?”

“Gods, _yes_.” It’s easy to slide up and down now, her walls drenched with juices as she fucks him with vigour, riding him like her life depends on it.

He wraps her arms around her waist, sitting upright, meshing their mouths together as he thrusts up into her, forcing her to meet each snap of his hips until her eyes roll back. She is grateful for his mouth covering hers, swallowing her loud mewls as her cunt convulses, the force of her orgasm making her shudder. He whispers sweet yet filthy praises into her ear, telling her how good she feels wrapped around his cock. Jon mercilessly flicks at the nub nestled in the apex of her thighs, making Daenerys come once more, until she is shaking in his arms with her body limp and overstimulated. His orgasm follows soon after and he buries his face into the crook of her neck when he comes, her hands entangling in his messy curls to hold him there, his thrusts growing messier and more untamed.

It takes a few minutes for her to drop from her high, her breathing slowly but surely evening out.

Before she can untangle herself from his strong arms and ask him what the _hell_ they just did and how they are going to handle this going forward, the front door clicks open.

**Author's Note:**

> i was pressured into writing this 😔✊🏼 a messy ending for a messy story. feedback is appreciated or whatever x


End file.
